


La Douleur Exquise

by starsandskies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, CEO!Louis, Drug Use, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, waiter!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandskies/pseuds/starsandskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles is lonely and broke. He lives in a dingy flat and lives on cheap takeaways. </p><p>One evening, Harry meets Louis who's everything he's not - rich, confident and powerful. </p><p>But everybody has skeletons in their closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The drugs and dubious consent will come later on in the story.

_La douleur exquise (n.) - The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have._

Mondays weren't at all odd for Harry Styles. They were ordinary, tiresome and just downright boring. But that Monday was different and the curly haired boy was going to remember it.

*

"Zayn, can you pass me those napkins?" Harry asked, his hands already tired from all the fancy folding he'd been doing.

The restaurant had gotten a huge booking for the day and the staff had been preparing for it ever since they got the call. For Harry, it meant folding (and then refolding since he never got it right on the first go) the navy coloured napkins into fans and swans and whatever else the manager had got him to do. He didn't even see the need for such elaborate shapes since they were only going to be spread on someone's lap or tucked into somebody's shirt and then thrown into the washing machine. His boss called him 'too common' for this type of thinking when he'd questioned it that one time.

He caught the stack of napkins that his friend slash fellow waiter threw at him with ease and began meticulously folding it.

"You know, it's apparently that Louis guy who's coming here tonight." Zayn spoke, his voicing rising with excitement.

"Who?" Harry asked as his tongue darted out of his mouth as he tried to create the perfect fan.

"The CEO of that massive company! You know, the er," the olive skinned boy clicked his fingers, searching for the right name, "Tomlinson & Co.!"

"Such a great name." His friend rolled his eyes, unimpressed with the heap of fabric in front of him. He balled it up and threw the napkin to the side, sighing at his own lack of creativity tonight.

"Come on, Harry! Those guys are so rich, wouldn't you want -"

"And probably selfish with it." He interrupted swiftly, casting his green eyes to the glasses behind the bar. He inspected them, wiping away any fingerprints or dust.

"Who wouldn't be?" Zayn exclaimed. "Beats working in a poxy restaurant."

"Even so, it's a job which you're not even doing right now. Go on, I'm not going to get my wages docked because of your lazy arse. I'll see you later, Zayn." Harry smiled curtly before he heard Zayn sigh, flicking him on the ear as he left. "I'll get you, Malik. Just wait." He mumbled an empty threat before walking into the kitchen.

"Styles!" The blonde Irish boy greeted, juggling plates in his hands.

"Horan." Harry noted, taking a seat and holding his head in his hands, staring at the tiles and the way they were laid side by side. Each grey tile had another tile to accompany it and Harry shook his head, feeling lonely and desperate as he realised that he was envying the kitchen floor.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Niall asked, carefully putting the plates down on the side, earning a disgruntled groan from the sous chef who muttered something about incompetence.

"Nothing." Harry replied sullenly, putting his head on the Irish boy's shoulder who had taken a seat beside him.

"And I'll believe it when I see it." Niall spoke softly as he brushed Harry's curls away from his forehead. A loving gesture that made the other boy smile.

"I'm just tired." The green eyed boy shrugged as he raised his head and tried to smile but failed miserably.

"Nobody's just tired, Haz."

Harry paused momentarily, "I know." He bit his lip and sighed. "Just fed up."

"Of?" Niall pressed. Ambivalent

"Everything." He shrugged noncommittally before his friend raised an eyebrow. "Of work, of life...of love," Harry scoffed, "or my lack of it."

"Hazza, come 'ere." His Irish friend wrapped him up in a hug and kissed the top of his head, "Harry Styles, you have no idea how lucky you are. You're blessed with friends like myself and Zayn as well as that big curly mop on your head. Things will get better."

"Since when did you get so wise?" Harry chuckled, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I've always been wise. Just never had the chance to use my wisdom, is all."

The whole kitchen heard the clamour of raised voices before the manager poked his head in.

"Let's go, guys! Do not mess this up, it could make or break us."

Niall rolled his eyes, "you heard him. Are you okay?"

"I am, thanks to you." Harry smiled genuinely at his friend's efforts and ducked out of the kitchen, grabbing his notepad.

He widened his eyes to the amount of people seated, taking up one half of the restaurant. They were all taking their coats and scarves off which were dusted with light snow.

"Harry, you take those tables there and Zayn will take those. Niall will take that side and Ben will take the last tables. Okay? Okay." The manager nodded once and pushed Harry forwards a little. "Off you go."

The curly haired boy did as he was told and sauntered up to his assigned table, flipping his notepad open as he poised his pen on the paper.

"I'm Harry Styles and I'll be your..." He clammed shut when a tousled head turned to face him.

"Waiter?" The voice spoke, dripping with humour. Unfamiliar blue eyes roamed up and down Harry which made him feel self-conscious. But it made him feel strangely wanted.

"Yeah." Harry laughed nervously. "Would you like the drinks' menu?" 

"What do you recommend?" The tanned boy gave the waiter a half smirk which made Harry's pulse race at the sudden curve of the older boy's lips.

"I, er, it isn't my field of expertise. I could get someone else to tell you-"

"No, I want you to tell me." The blue eyed boy smiled wickedly, a teasing look in his eye.

"Erm..." Harry hesitated, scratching the back of his head, "I don't know, er...Sauvignon Blanc? Pinot Noir? Budweiser?" He laughed, making the other boy smile.

"We'll have that menu, Harry Styles." He spoke, nodding once.

"Coming right up." Harry managed a tight smile before grabbing a few menus and passing them to the people at his designated tables.

"Thanks, Hazza."

The curly haired boy narrowed his eyes as he muttered a multitude of curses under his breath, shoving the kitchen door open, striding in with a disgruntled look on his face.

"Whoa, calm down!" Zayn put his hands on Harry's chest, holding him back a little.

"Who the fuck does he think he is?" He raged, shaking his head. He felt humiliated at what Louis had him do.

"Who?"

"The dick in the suit." Harry scowled even if he was secretly admiring the tanned boy's face.

"That's Louis Tomlinson, Haz!" Zayn exclaimed, grinning.

"It is? God, he's awful." He rolled his eyes, getting ready to go back out there again. "Wish me luck."

He strolled back to the table and flipped his notepad open. "Are you ready to order your drinks?"

"Yes we are, _Harry._ " Louis made an effort to mention his name. "Can we have one bottle of your finest champagne on each table?

"You sure can." He refrained from saying anything more than that and went back to retrieve what had been asked for.

*

"Is it just me or is he really up himself?" Harry sighed as he slumped down into the chair, feeling exhausted after waiting on so many people all at once.

"He's cute, Haz. He looks just like your type!" Zayn teased, ruffling his friend's hair.

"Excuse me, I'm not into the snobby, conceited, rich types." He scoffed, folding his arms.

"Oh yeah, I forgot. You're into the tortured souls and the lost poets who hang around in Starbucks all day trying to find the meaning in life." The quiffed boy rolled his eyes, crinkling his nose.

"I think the word you missed was intelligent." Harry spoke, shaking his head.

"Whatever, man." Zayn smirked, looking up as Niall came in.

"They want the bill and I can't be arsed. Off you go, Harry!" The Irish boy smiled widely as he tugged on his friend's sleeve.

"I just sat down!" The green eyed lad lamented, his face full of despair. "I don't want to go, anyway. I don't like him."

"Hazza, he's a customer. Besides, I saw the way he was looking at you so just go. You'll get a huge tip, okay? Go." Niall spoke firmly, jerking a thumb towards the door.

"Fine." Harry grumbled, muttering something about injustice and Louis Tomlinson's hair.

He walked over to their table, for what he hoped was the last time, and looked at Louis. But he paused momentarily as he noticed the small strand of hair coming loose from otherwise the most perfect quiff.

"Your bill, sir." The curly haired boy spoke, not looking into Louis' eyes. "Cash or card?"

"Cash." Louis smirked at Harry who furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He got his wallet out and fished out three crisp notes (two one hundred pound notes and one fifty) before placing them on the black plastic dish.

"You've been fabulous, Hazza. Really looked after me, you have. Thanks." The blue eyed boy teased in his Doncaster accent as he smiled, flashing his white pearls.

"You're welcome." Harry mumbled, taking the money away and putting it into the till before going to join the boys.

Louis and all of his employees gathered up all of their things and were getting ready to leave. The snow outside was getting worse and Harry wondered how he was going to get home. He'd walked it to the restaurant.

"You couldn't give us a lift, could ya? It's getting heavy out there." He asked Niall as they headed out of the kitchen with Zayn and the others to do a quick clean up.

"Yeah, sure. I just have to go over to my girlfriend's to give her something. That alright?"

"Course." Harry nodded, "thanks."

He started at the far end and began picking up all the discarded napkins (his handiwork wasn't appreciated by the way they had just been tossed aside) and put them in the laundry basket.

"Er, Harry? I think this is for you..." Zayn ushered his friend over and raised an eyebrow.

"What is it?" Harry questioned as he rushed over as anticipation built up inside him.

He looked down at the table and scowled. Against the white tablecloth was a fifty pound note but this wasn't just any old note. It was Louis Tomlinson's fifty pound note. He picked it up and unfolded it.

On the front of the note were the words 'call me xx' in cursive and a phone number scribbled on the back.

"That bastard..." Harry muttered as he shook his head.

"Hazza's got an admirer!" Zayn sang in a juvenile manner.

"Fuck off, Malik." He replied tersely. "He's a wanker."

"Such a wanker that he left you his number." The olive skinned boy rolled his eyes and scoffed.

Harry pocketed the note and ignored Zayn.

What was Louis thinking?

*

"You ready to go?" Niall asked, shrugging on his coat.

"Yeah, I am." Harry answered as he tightened his scarf around his neck.

He opened the door and shivered as the cold hit the two of them. Snowflakes stuck to Harry's coat as they walked out to the staff car park. The wind bit at his fingertips before he shoved them in his pocket, clenching his fists.

"Fuck, it's cold." He cursed, scrambling inside the Irish boy's car.

"No shit, Sherlock." Niall chuckled, starting the car and putting the heating on promptly.

The drive was mainly silent before the blonde waiter announced that he was just going to see his girlfriend. He left Harry alone to collect his thoughts about Louis.

He was beautiful from what he'd seen but seemed conceited. He was too middle-class, too rich. He had stupid, perfect hair and eyes that could make a saint sin. He had tanned skin that looked soft to touch and a nice mouth. The worst thing was that Harry had noticed all this just by waiting on him. It was ridiculous, he thought to himself.

"Ah, home?" Niall rubbed his hands together before placing them on the steering wheel and starting the car.

"Yeah, please." Harry nodded as he watched snow fall from the night sky. He loved this time of year.

His Irish friend dropped him off outside his flat and waved goodbye before driving off. Harry could barely get his keys out let alone open the door; his hands were red and nearly numb. He got into his flat and was greeted by the smell of fresh linen. It was small but neat and more importantly, it was his which made the dripping taps and the damp patch in the kitchen more bearable.

He went into his bedroom and collapsed on the bed, sighing in relief. He remembered Louis and took the note from his pocket, straightening it out.

The more he looked at the neat scrawl, the more angry he got. He didn't know it if was the fact that Louis had destroyed Harry's chance of earning fifty quid or that the pompous ass had the nerve to give his number to him.

It wasn't like Harry was the least bit interested in Louis Tomlinson.

It wasn't like Harry was thinking about him in that moment where he was lonely and in need of some good company.


	2. Chapter 2

He wasn't going to call Louis. Well, not straight away, anyway. He wanted to make him wait because he knew that Louis was anticipating the call because he was the one that gave the younger boy his number which obviously meant that he was waiting. He left the fifty pound note on his dresser and didn't give it a second glance as he got ready for work.

He put on a black shirt with a black skinny tie and well fitted pants that 'hugged his arse nicely' according to Zayn. He ran a hand through his curls and looked in the mirror thinking that he'd have to do.

He didn't fancy walking (more like hiking since the snow didn't let up last night) to work today so he grabbed the keys to his car and pocketed them before taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the entrance. He looked down at the cigarette butts that were building up in the corner as well as the stains on the carpeted floor. He grimaced as he opened the door and left the dreadful place he had the misfortune to call home. He knew he had to leave but he just didn't have the money. His restaurant job just about paid for the rent, food and petrol. He was looking for another but times were hard.

Harry took the keys out of his pocket and unlocked his car, slipping inside and driving off to his wretched job.

*

“Styles, I want a word with you.” His boss pointed a finger at him and lead him through the doors that said 'STAFF ONLY'.

“Whatever it was, I didn't do it.” Harry quickly defended as he raised his hands. Whenever his boss wanted to speak to him, it always resulted in the docking of Harry's wages because he didn't fold those bloody napkins right or he was too rude to a customer or he'd broken something.

“How do you know that I'm going to shout at you?”

“Because you've got that face on.” The curly haired lad replied, folding his arms.

“What face?” His boss questioned.

“This,” Harry furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched up his face as he tried to imitate him, “you always do it.”

“Right, okay. Anyway, I didn't want to speak to you about that,” he sounded exasperated. “I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. Mr. Tomlinson said that his waiter was really attentive and he really liked you. Of course, he got your name wrong and called you Barry but nonetheless, he still liked you. He said he was going to recommend _L'Oiseau Blanc_ to everyone!”

“Barry?!” Harry spat, frowning. _The idiot got my name wrong_ , he thought to himself.

“Now, you should be proud of yourself! You're getting there.” His boss pat him on the back and grinned.

“Do I get a raise?”

“In your dreams, son. Now, get to work.” Harry scowled (his favourite pastime, it seemed) at his boss and went into the kitchen to retrieve some utensils for the tables and to say hello to his friends.

“Evening, Curly.” Zayn nodded as he picked up some napkins.

“I'm not doing that, Zayn. You're on napkin duty, today.” Harry pointed out as he shook his head, looking down at them with displeasure in his eyes.

“No, Haz. Don't make me!” The quiffed boy whined dramatically as he grabbed hold of Harry's shirt.

“Fuck off, Malik.” He chuckled, pushing the boy off him. “Where's Niall?”

“He's eating.” Zayn replied. “Over there.”

“Of course he is.” He smiled at his Irish friend's constant consuming of food.

Customers began to flood the restaurant and Harry sighed, already tired, as he grabbed his notepad and pen, putting it behind his ear.

“Another day, another dollar.” He groaned, loud enough for everyone in the kitchen to hear. There were sounds of approval as he walked out, heading to one of the nearby tables.

*

“Fucking hell!” He said out loud as he collapsed on his bed with his arms spread out. The restaurant was busy since it was a Saturday night and people with lives went out while the people who lacked much needed nights off served them.

He was exhausted and in fact, he'd been tired for a long time. He was twenty two without a purpose or direction but he didn't care at that moment since all he wanted to do was sleep.

But something was nagging him in the back of his mind.

He felt around on his dresser and grabbed hold of the thing that he'd been thinking about. Harry sat up and looked down at the fifty pound note as he shook his head in disbelief. He ran a finger across the number printed on the front and his stomach twisted unusually. He picked up his mobile and punched in the eleven digits, immediately regretting it, before waiting hesitantly.

_“Hello?”_ The pleasing voice answered, sounding tired, making Harry keep his mouth shut. _“Hello-o-o?”_

“It’s me from last night. Er, Har-”

_“Harry Styles!”_ The blue eyed boy practically shouted down the phone, not trying to sound collected at all. Harry heard the smile hidden in his voice and he furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance as he tried to tell his stomach to stop writhing. He put it down to short-term excitement.

“Yeah,” he grunted, biting his lip.

_“To what do I owe the pleasure?”_ Louis asked as he quirked his lips into a smirk.

“I don't know, you're the one that gave me your number.” Harry said testily. “What did you want?”

_“Indeed I did.”_ He began, not answering the second part of the question. “I gave it to you just in case.”

“In case of what?” The other boy questioned, furrowing his eyebrows at Louis' evasive attitude.

_“You're lonely.”_ The tanned boy pointed out, tapping his fingers against the desk. “That's why you called me. And that's why I gave you my number.”

“What?!” Harry asked incredulously, shaking his head, feeling a strange pang in his heart as the stranger's words rang true.

_“You looked lonely last night and pretty boys like you shouldn't be alone.”_ Louis answered mysteriously with a certain kind of smugness in his voice which Harry picked up on.

“You're not making any sense, yeah? How do you know I don't have a boyfriend?”

_“Well, it's either you have one and he's not treating you right or there just isn't one at all.”_ The blue eyed boy replied.

“What makes you say that?” Harry narrowed his eyes, regretting calling the number because all he was getting in return were nonsensical riddles.

_“Because you look like you need a good fuck.”_ Louis said breezily, emphasising the last two words, making Harry's eyes double in size in shock.

“Wh-what?” He sputtered. “Who the fuck do you think you are, mate?”

_“Hit a nerve, have I?”_ The other boy said so cockily that Harry could hear the smirk dripping from his words.

“Listen, I called you because you left your number but now, I wish I didn't. Fuck you.” Harry spat, ending the call.

He was completely taken aback with what Louis had said! He had no idea that their conversation would turn into something like that and Harry, a somewhat reserved (when necessary) person, refused to discuss his sex life with a complete and utter stranger. He ran a hand through his curls and couldn't help but find the dismal truth in Louis' words. It was true, he hadn't gotten laid in months and Harry was so miserable since he had all of this pent up sexual frustration but he didn't have anybody to do anything about it and going solo didn't have the same effect.

He fell onto his pillow with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep but he couldn't help but think about the stranger's (Harry didn't exactly know Louis) voice and the strange phone call he'd just encountered.

He knew one thing for sure; it was the last time he was ever going to call Louis' number.

*

Sundays were Harry's day off but he didn't do much except catch up on his sleep and watch mindless television. Because of the constant repetition, he was getting pretty sick of it so he decided to throw things off balance a little and phone his mum. She picked up on the third ring.

_“Hazza? You've not called for ages! How are you? Are you eating well? How's your flat? Do you want to come back home?”_ She bombarded him with questions and he was taken aback by the urgency in her voice.

“Mum, slow down!” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I'm fine, how is everyone?”

_“We're all fine, darling. It's you we're thinking about!”_ She exclaimed with the kind of worry that only mothers had.

“Well, don't. I'm perfectly fine here. Everything's going good.” He half-lied, half meant.

_“You sound rough, are you eating properly?”_ His mother questioned for the second time.

Harry looked down at the empty takeout cartons and smiled to himself, “I'm good, Mum. There are loads of vegetables in the fridge.”

The fridge was practically empty. There were three bottles of beer, half a carton of milk, some butter, a few slices of bread and a jar of Hartley's seedless raspberry jam.

_“Oh, I'm glad. Here I was thinking that you were eating takeaways,”_ she sighed in relief which made Harry bite his lower lip guiltily.

“Of course not. Anyway, I just wanted to see how you lot were.”

_“Yeah, we're fine. So, have you met anybody yet?”_ She added quickly as her voice rose slightly.

“No, I haven't, Mum!” He whined. Harry shuddered at the thought of the awkward call last night. Even if Louis Tomlinson had nice eyes and perfect hair, he was still a creep.

_“Alright, if you say so...”_ She trailed off expectantly.

“Mum!” He warned, rubbing his forehead.

_“Not even a nice boy?”_

“I'm twenty-two, I don't meet boys.” He scoffed.

_“A man, then!”_ She corrected herself and he could hear the smile in her voice.

“No, I haven't. Can we please drop-”

_“What about those friends? Zayn and Neil.”_

“Niall, Mum. It's _Niall_. And no, they're just friends. Besides, he has a girlfriend and Zayn's vain enough to be content with himself.” Harry laughed.

_“I just hope you'll settle down soon, love.”_ She said in a motherly tone.

“Yeah, I know. Listen, I should go. I'll let you get on, okay?”

_“Okay, bye! Stay safe, honey. Love you.”_

“I love you, too and I will. Bye.” He ended the call and groaned as he rubbed his temples.

His mother, who he loved dearly, exasperated him. She was worrying constantly and always pestering him about who he was seeing (if anyone) at the time. The thing was, Harry hadn't dated anyone for a few years and he was certain that he'd forgotten how to do it. He'd never had a serious relationship and he'd never fallen in love. It just didn't happen for him and all he had were a string of dissatisfying fucks that seemed like a good idea at the time but turned out to be a quick 'sneak out the backdoor before he woke up' kind of thing.

It was half three in the afternoon when Harry's phone vibrated. He glanced down at it and saw a number that he didn't recognise. He opened the text and widened his green eyes.

_'I'm not done with you, Styles. L. x'_

Louis Tomlinson! What is he playing at?

Harry muttered under his breath as thought about ignoring him. But if he did that, it would make him look like a total wuss so he began to construct his reply.

_'What's that supposed to mean?'_ He sent the text and awaited a response.

Instead, his phone flashed repeatedly and buzzed which made the curly haired boy's insides flutter with shock, nerves and curiosity.

“Yeah?” He answered, swallowing hard.

_“Harry Styles, hello!”_ Louis spoke, his Doncaster accent prominent.

“What do you want?” Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes.

_“I wanted to tell you that I meant that we should get to know each other.”_ His voice was inviting and kind, not like last night where it was laced with smugness.

“I don't know you.” The curly haired boy stated, wondering where this was going.

_“Exactly the point! We should get to know each other because you've interested me, Styles.”_ Louis replied as his tone became more serious towards the end.

“Why?”

_“I'll tell you more if you agree to meet up. Will you?”_ He asked expectantly.

“Don't be stupid, you're a complete stranger!”

_“You're right. So, tomorrow at one o'clock. Come to my office, I'll text you the address.”_

“I didn't even agree! L-Louis!” The line went dead and Harry groaned (out loud this time) as he couldn't believe what the sneaky bastard had done.

It looked like he had a date with Louis Tomlinson, tomorrow.

_Wonderful_.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis was different. He wasn't made up of the same things as everybody else. He was made out of waves crashing and stars shining and flowers blooming. Harry knew this because he was stood in front of him and he was looking into his cerulean eyes, he had such wonderful eyes.

“I'm glad you came, I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up. I thought we agreed one o'clock.”

Harry glanced up at the time and said, “no, you agreed”, making Louis' mouth twitch as he looked him up and down. It was quarter-past three.

“Well, you're here, anyway.” He shrugged, standing up from behind his desk. He walked towards the black love seat at the back of his office (he was CEO, after all) and motioned for Harry to sit.

The curly haired boy did as he was told.

“Why am I here?” He questioned slowly.

“Because you want to be,” Louis stated matter-of-factly, his voice not giving anything away.

“You know what I mean!” Harry snapped, already exasperated with the blue eyed boy.

“Isn't it obvious?” The other boy's lips curved upwards whilst Harry shook his head after thinking. “Because you're interested in me.”

“Am I?” The younger one asked sarcastically, rolling his green eyes at how vain Louis was being. He thought Zayn was bad.

“Yes, you are. I can see it on your face.”

“Whatever,” he was right, Louis  _was_  conceited.

“Look, I asked you here because you look kind, alright?” There was a rare sight of vulnerability on his tired face that Harry looked at and noticed and unknowingly committed to memory.

He didn't know what to say so he said nothing. He didn't think he had a kind face but he wasn't looking at himself when he saw a mother with her baby or when he watched couples share comfortable silences with each other from across the restaurant tables or even when he was admiring quiffed, blue eyed boys from afar. He didn't see his own eyes and the way they creased at the edges when he saw something that he thought he could have.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Louis spoke unexpectedly.

“Er..,” Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly; he hated being put on the spot, “I don't know...”

“Yes, you do. Anything. I don't mind what.”

After some hesitation, “I like to sing,” he said shyly, biting on his lower lip.

“You like to sing? That's nice, yeah. You any good?” Louis enquired.

“I-I don't know. I've not sung in front of anyone before,” he stuttered a little as he felt anxious. Louis was making him nervous.

The older boy understood and didn't demand a song because they'd only just met and that wouldn't be right.

“Something else?” He asked, gentler this time.

“Do I have to?” Harry mumbled, rare shyness washing over him as he glanced up at Louis through his eyelashes.

“I want you to.”

“I like chick flicks.” He said as a light twinge of pink graced his cheeks. Zayn and Niall had always told him that he was weird for liking them so he kept quiet. He was embarrassed to watch them but he just couldn't help it.

“'S cute, that is.” Louis' eyes softened as he listened to the curly haired boy next to him. So far, he thought that Harry was very endearing and it reminded him of someone. And he knew very well who that somebody was and it made his skin feel all tingly so he pushed the memories back to the furthest depths of his mind and refocused on the younger boy.

“That's not what oth-”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Louis interrupted, placing his hand in between the two of them. He looked up and bit his lip innocently, his eyes wide.

Harry's stomach flipped as he swallowed hard and the question turned over in his mind in the space of a few half seconds. The older boy was radiating warmth and want and wonder all at the same time and his eyes trailed down to Louis' hand in between them just out of reach but despite his hand being where it was and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip and his piercing blue eyes, Harry shook his head, “no.”

“Interesting.” Louis' tone gave nothing away once again as he said that one word that made the other boy's heart race. He didn't know how and he didn't know why but god, the word tumbled out of his mouth like liquid gold.

Neither of them realised it but they were both just mere inches away from one another. They'd been moving closer and closer which meant that Harry could see a smattering of the most discreet freckles he'd ever seen on Louis' face. They were both pulsating heat and it made each of their hearts beat above average speed and the younger boy was absolutely certain that he'd never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wanted to kiss Louis Tomlinson at that moment.

But none of it mattered because three knocks on the office door made the two boys realise what they were doing and Louis leapt back hastily which hurt Harry's feelings because he didn't know why it would be such a bad idea to kiss him. But then he remembered all the things that made him who he was and he understood and it didn't hurt so much. The thing was, if Louis could read Harry's mind he would tell him that he did want to kiss him but it wouldn't be appropriate in front of one of his colleagues (even if they knew what he got up to on his days off) and it wasn't because of what he was like since Louis didn't even know him.

“Come in!”

A man a little older than Harry walked in wearing a pressed grey suit and a light blue tie. He had a stack of papers in his hand before placing them on the desk.

“They're from the Barrett order, sir.” He eyed Harry suspiciously (maybe because he was dressed in skinny jeans and a t-shirt and was sitting oddly close to his boss) and stood in the doorway.

“How many times, Liam? It's  _Louis_.” He stressed with a small smile on his face.

“Okay, Louis.” Liam grinned as he left, shutting the door behind him.

Harry cleared his throat and stood up, wiping his palms on the front of his jeans. “I should go.”

“Do you want to?” Louis asked with a small voice and the green eyed boy couldn't really believe that this was the same person he'd spoke to yesterday. The cockiness disappeared along with the smug attitude.

“Yeah, er,” Harry looked up at the time, “I have to work soon.” It was only nearly four o'clock and his shift didn't start until six but Louis didn't need to know that. He wanted to leave because the desire he had earlier had suddenly diminished and he felt out of sorts.

“Okay, if you're certain.” Louis said nonchalantly, standing up too.

“I'll see you, or I won't or whatever.”

“No, you'll see me. I'll call you or something.” The older boy nodded, managing a small smile. But the air had become thicker and it was stifling.

“Yeah, I'd like that.” Harry left and on his way down the stairs to the exit, he still felt something odd hanging in the air between them and it gave him a strange feeling.

But he shrugged it off.

Harry was like that. He avoided things until they became something so disproportionately big that they just couldn't be ignored.

He got into his car and dwelled on what had just happened.

Louis Tomlinson was unbelievably strange.

*

Work hadn't been busy and he didn't really do a lot. Sometimes, he thought about quitting and moving far, far away but he quickly realised that he barely had enough money as it was and starting somewhere new would just increase the strain.

It was gone two o'clock in the morning and although he was tired as fuck, he was sat in his flat with Niall and Zayn who were nursing a can of Guinness (thanks to the blonde boy) in their hands.

“It's only Monday but I'm already waiting for the weekend.” Niall whinged as he sighed heavily.

“It's Tuesday, actually.” Zayn pointed out much to the Irish lad's dismay.

“Whatever, I'm still waiting for Saturday.” He grumbled.

Harry was in his own world as he thought about Louis. He was enthralled by the way he talked and the way he was interested in a waiter like him when he was CEO of a massive company. He knew that he was gay (Harry had an impeccable gaydar) even before he tried to kiss him. Besides, he had to be because nobody leaves their number to an attractive twenty-three year old man the way Louis did.

“What's up with you?” Zayn asked Harry as he punched his shoulder gently which made the younger boy snap out of his reverie.

“Oh, nothing.” He denied, shaking his head half-heartedly.

“You sure? You've been quiet.”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Harry nodded, yawning.

“What did you do with the number that guy left you a few days ago?” Niall pitched in, downing his can of beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Nothing.” He replied flatly as he took the Irish lad's empty can and sqaushed it, making dents and sharp edges.

“You're lying.” Zayn piped up as his eyes narrowed and eyed Harry suspiciously.

“Is that what's got you all in a tizz?” The blonde asked, crinkling his nose and chuckling.

“Niall!” The curly haired boy whined as he looked up and frowned, his cheeks heating up from reminders of Louis. He could feel his face turning red.

Zayn and Niall carried on laughing which Harry found extremely annoying. He hated how his face gave so much away. It was almost as if he didn't need to say anything; his face did the job just as well. “Hey!” Nothing. “Guys!”

“I'm sorry, man. It's just that I've never seen you act like such a girl before!” Zayn spoke as he wiped a tear from his eye, his cheeks flushed.

“I'm not! I don't even like him.” Harry said indignantly, folding his arms.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much.” Niall spoke under his breath.

“Fuck off, Horan.” He muttered.

“Anyway, have you seen him again?” Zayn questioned, taking a sip of his beer innocently.

Harry hesitated for a second or two as he looked between his two friends. He thought he may as well tell them. “Yeah, I called him a few days ago and he was being a wanker so I hung up. But he called me the next day and wanted to meet me so I went. Yesterday.”

They both widened their eyes in shock and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, nodding. “Yeah...”

“What happened?” Niall raised an eyebrow as he looked at Harry suspiciously.

“Nothing, we just talked. And then I almost kissed him.” The younger boy quickly added as he dropped his gaze to the floor, looking away from his friends' gasps of surprise.

“Get in there, Harry!” The Irish lad cheered while Zayn looked smug.

“I told you something would happen.” Zayn shrugged, holding his hand out.

“Whatever.” A disgruntled Niall grumbled as he fished a five pound note out of his pocket and handed it to the other boy who grinned. Harry was outraged.

“You took bets?!” He exclaimed, widening his eyes.

“Yeah. We bet on if you would see him again and Zayn thought that you'd make the first move but I thought he would. But technically, Louis gave him his number first.”

“That doesn't count!” Zayn argued, shaking his head.

“I can't believe you two.” Harry shook his head but couldn't keep the small smile off his face as though of seeing Louis again.

He wondered about his question about love at first sight and he couldn't think of a fathomable reason as to why he asked that. But he put it down to Louis' abnormal mind.

“Guys, you can stay here but I'm going to crash. I'm shattered.” Harry announced, standing up and throwing the empty cans into the bin. As if on cue, the Irish boy yawned and leant against the worn out green sofa.

“Me too,” he said as closed his eyes briefly in exhaustion. “You sure it's fine if we stay here?”

“There's not a lot of room but you've both been drinking so I don't think you should drive,” the curly haired boy advised smartly.

“Okay,” Niall nodded, looking at Zayn who'd remained silent for a few moments.

“Yeah, that's fine,” he finally spoke, smiling up at Harry. “Thanks.”

The younger lad left the room briefly before returning with two blankets and two pillows before handing one of each to each of his friends. They both thanked him and he went to his room swiftly, leaving Zayn and Niall to their own devices.

He shut the door to his room and collapsed onto his bed, feeling a headache coming along.

He dreamt of Louis that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a weed smoker and internet research will only get you so far so apologies if any of that stuff is wrong.

“Hurry up, Styles! The way you're going, you won't get any tips, come on!”

Harry refrained from yelling in his boss' face that he was going as fast as he could. He didn't want to lose his job since he didn't have anything to fall back on - just empty takeaway cartons and a crappy flat. He was hardly doing well. He sighed and caught Niall's gaze who was rolling his eyes. The restaurant was so busy today with separate tables of eight to twenty five.

The waiters who were there were manic as they tried to be everywhere all at once but they were severely understaffed. There were eight of them and over ninety five people, all wanting drinks and soups and menus. They took eons to order and by the time Harry wrote everything down, his hand ached.

“Look lively,” the boss harassed, patting the curly haired boy on the back. As soon as he left, Harry flipped the bird and then glared at some customers who had seen him and shot him an appalled look.

He wanted out of this life.

He walked towards one of the tables towards the back and drawled out in a bored voice, “hi, I'm Harry and I'll be your waiter this evening. What can I get you to drink?”

“We'll have a bottle of house red and two jugs of ice water please,” one of the customers spoke. Harry looked up and noticed him instantly as Liam, the one from Louis' office.

“Liam, isn't it?” Harry remembered, tapping his pen against his notepad absentmindedly.

“Yeah, hi.”

“I'll get your drinks,” the waiter nodded, going to the kitchen to retrieve their order.

He briefly wondered how Louis was doing and if he was thinking about him too but Harry shook his head clear and disregarded his rogue thoughts.

“Here you are,” the curly haired man took their drinks off the tray and placed them down carefully. They muttered a quick 'thanks' before resuming their conversation and Harry sighed inwardly as he traipsed off, tugging at his collar a little.

The staff were expected to wear white shirts with black skinny ties but it was really hot in the restaurant so Harry had rolled his sleeves up and undone his top button. A few female customers gawked at him but he ignored them, not in the mood to flirt or engage in extra unnecessary conversation.

He went into the kitchen and took some orders out to the tables and he looked around at all the people who could afford to eat here and felt truly awful.

But he knew that this was going to get better.

*

_And you, you're the reason why I fell._

_You're why I'm gone._

_You took everything from me and I hope it kills you._

_I hope you suffocate on your own self-righteousness._

_I hope you die._

Louis woke up with a start, breathing heavy, sweat dripping down his face and sheets soaking. His hair was stuck to his forehead and he shivered, feeling cold and spent.

He wet his lips and got out of bed, stripping out of his damp clothes and putting them in the hamper. He grabbed a towel and ran the shower, testing the temperature before standing under it and washing the sweat off his body. He padded out tiredly and glanced at the time: 4.32am.

Well, it was progress, he supposed. Yesterday's time was almost two-thirty but he put that down to him sleeping earlier. Louis performed the nightly ritual and pulled off his sheets before haphazardly putting new ones on. He grabbed anything because he wasn't in the mood to match the colours and let out an audible sigh as his head hit the pillow. His hair was still damp from the shower but it beat being damp with sweat. He buried his face into the sheets and slept peacefully for two and a half hours.

*

Harry Styles had his phone in his hand as he scrolled through his inbox, deleting old messages from people like his mum and Niall. His eyes scanned Louis' name once but he shrugged, feeling indifferent about him. He deleted that one message he received from him and locked his phone, only to be startled by his ringtone.

“Hello?” Harry answered, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Hey, it's me.” And he recognised the voice instantly.

“Hi...Louis.”

“How are you? It's been too long,” Louis joked and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.

“I'm okay, thanks. I'm tired,” and on cue, he yawned. “You?”

“I'm fine,” Louis said although, his voice gave him away. He sounded rough like it was difficult for him to talk. His voice was scratchy like sandpaper.

But Harry didn't press matters, “why did you call?”

“I missed that lovely voice of yours,” the blue-eyed man teased.

“Real reason, please,” Harry spoke dryly, unamused with Louis' antics.

“I wanted to ask you to come out with me. It's Friday night and I wondered if you wanted to spend it with me,” Louis said honestly, his voice quiet and unhurried, a contrast to their first phone conversation. This man was just full of surprises.

“A-are you asking me out on a date?” Harry questioned incredulously, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah, it'll be fun. I can get to know you better,” Louis beamed, hoping for a positive answer.

“I...shit,” Harry cursed, remembering he was working nights at the restaurant. “I can’t, I’ve got work.”

“No, that’s a shame,” Louis frowned, “can’t you get someone to cover?”

“I could ask Zayn but I’m not sure if he’d agree..,” the younger man sighed, worrying on his bottom lip.

“Call him and ask, then. Come on, I’d love to see you.”

“Okay, hang on.”

Harry ended the call to Louis and quickly dropped Zayn a text asking him if he could cover his shifts. He agreed but wanted something in return and Harry promised him that he’d make him a batch of double chocolate chip cookies (he hadn’t baked in so long and he didn’t know why he promised that. In fact, he hadn’t done any of his favourite things lately) for his troubles.

He called Louis back.

“He said yes.”

“That’s great!” the older man seemed genuinely delighted and Harry could hear the amusement in his voice. “Are we still on?”

“Sure,” the curly haired man acquiesced, his stomach fluttering with excitement.

“I'll pick you up at seven,” Louis suggested, his Doncaster accent shining through.

Harry looked around his dingy flat and grimaced, “no, I'll come to you. Text me your address, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis said, “I'll see you then.”

“Bye.”

Harry ended the call and a huge grin adorned his face as he fist-pumped the air before regaining his composure and smoothing his shirt down. This was just one date and he may have been over-presumptious but Louis looked like someone he could fall in love with – stable, sure and constant. Not that he had any intention to fall in love with him or anything. They wouldn’t be good together anyway, they came from two completely different backgrounds and Harry wasn’t sure that Louis would understand him and what he needed. He didn’t want to be treated like he was anything less than Louis just because he wasn’t a hotshot CEO.

This was Harry’s habit. He was an over thinker and he created situations in his head that were less than likely to actually happen but that didn’t stop him from doing it. There was that one time when he was supposed to go out with this guy (he was sixteen and it was his first date with a boy called Joey who had grey eyes) but he over thought it so much that he ended up not going. Joey never talked to him after that no matter how much Harry apologised. It was just that he kept thinking about all the things that could go wrong and Joey not liking him for who he was was one of the main ones.

Harry took a deep breath and wondered about his clothes. He shuffled towards his wardrobe and took out a pair of black skinny jeans and a simple white t-shirt. He reached for his black jacket with grey piping on the collar and across the pockets. He nodded in approval (it was casual and didn't look like he was trying too hard. Besides, he was hardly going on a dinner date with the President of the United States) and went to have a shower and tidy himself up.

*

Harry drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he waited for the clock on his dashboard to hit 6:45pm. Louis had texted him the address and although he didn't really know the area, he knew how to get there and figured that it would take him twenty minutes to drive to his house (more like mansion by the sounds of things) and he didn't want to seem too eager by arriving at seven on the dot. Instead, he wiped his hands on his jeans and felt an anxious feeling build up in his stomach - a sickening fluttering sensation that made him want to go back inside and curl up into bed.

But he didn't do it because that was cowardly and alternatively, he started the engine and began driving to Louis' house - the time 6:47pm.

Like he anticipated it didn't take too long to get to Louis' house and he swallowed hard and wiped his slightly sweaty palms on his trousers once again. He had a right to be nervous as this was his first date in forever. And maybe the CEO wasn't so fussed but Harry wanted him to like him.

He walked up to the front door and marvelled at what he saw. It wasn't a two bedroom flat or an apartment, no. It was an actual house that looked massive from the outside. He knocked on the door gingerly and waited for an answer. He wasn't late or anything, he just wasn't very early.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis opened the door and smiled brightly. And all the younger boy could do was stare.

Louis paralleled Harry and was also sporting black jeans but he was wearing a crisp white shirt to go with it. “Oh, I...hi.”

He noticed a small dog beside Louis’ legs (it was a Yorkshire Terrier with golden brown hair and a cute nose) and the green eyed man smiled down at it.

“You’re not allergic to dogs, are you?”

“No, it’s fine. Is it a boy or a girl?”

Louis scooped the dog up and nuzzled it on its head, “it’s a boy. He’s called Fury and he’s my baby,” he turned his attention to his pet, “you’re my baby, aren’t you?”

“Aw, he’s adorable.”

The older boy chuckled and let go of his dog in the direction of the house, telling him to go out into the garden. Harry really wanted to say that Louis was the cute one, “come in.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, following his date inside before gawking at the house.

It looked so _liveable_. There were white comfortable couches and a glass coffee table in the middle of the living room and the walls were decorated with intricate patterns, giving the room a chic look.

“Wow.”

“Thank you,” Louis grinned, turning to face him. “What do you want to do?”

“I don't know, it's your choice,” Harry shrugged, not really wanting to impose.

“Can we stay in? I've had a really hard day at work and my head's all over the place. I know it's not exactly a good first date but I'll make it up to you.”

“You're awfully confident, who said I'll want to see you again?” Harry smirked, folding his arms across his chest, playfully indignant.

“I always get what I want,” Louis spoke lowly, his eyes trailing down Harry's face, setting themselves on his mouth.

“We'll see about that,” the younger boy swallowed hard and tried to regain his composure as his own gaze flitted down to Louis' pink lips.

And Harry thought that they were so close and that the blue eyed man would lean in and kiss him and answer the question that had been going round and round in his head (what did Louis taste like?) but he didn't and that made his face fall.

“So, popcorn and a film with the lights down?” Louis moved his head away and stepped back a little, cocking his head as he awaited an answer from Harry.

“Yeah, great,” the younger boy agreed cheerfully but in his head, he was a little sceptical. Surely, watching a film in the dark was too intimate for two people who didn’t know each other. But he didn’t press matters.

“Come on,” Louis laced his fingers through Harry’s (which made him shudder at the sudden contact) and gently pulled him forward. “You’re cute.”

Harry blinked a few times and blushed, mumbling a thank you before he was being guided down the hall. Louis opened a door and flicked the lights on, illuminating the room.

“Whoa,” the curly haired boy widened his eyes as he took Louis’ cinema room. There was a huge screen on one side of the room and a large sofa, different from the ones he’d seen previously, and a few armchairs dotted around.

“I don’t get to use this room, I’m always busy,” Louis frowned, letting go of Harry’s hand.

“That’s a shame, it’s wonderful.”

“Thanks, what do you want to watch?”

“I don’t mind, anything.”

“You like chick flicks don’t you?” Louis asked, grinning.

“You remembered,” Harry noticed, a smile playing on his lips.

“Let’s watch Titanic, then.”

“That’s one of my favourite films, I don’t remember telling you that,” the younger boy arched an eyebrow, looking up at Louis.

“You didn’t, it was a lucky guess.”

*

Somewhere through the film, Louis stood up unexpectedly. Harry didn’t have to hide his tears because there weren’t any just yet (the part when the ship first starts to sink got him every time and from that point on, there would be no going back) but he knew that by the end of it, he would be a mess. His eyes followed Louis out of the room and a minute or two later he was back with something in his hand.

“Do you smoke, Harry?” Louis asked, diverting Harry’s attention from the film and onto him.

“I don’t not smoke,” the younger boy said, shrugging. He wasn’t a chain smoker or anything but if someone offered him one, he would take it. He’d smoked in his teens behind his mum’s back when she went to work or when she was out shopping. He liked breaking the rules sometimes.

Louis placed two pieces of silver Rizla paper on the table and got a tin out of his pocket. Harry watched him open it and empty some of the contents onto the table before he eyed him wearily because that wasn’t tobacco. Louis rolled the spliff artfully into a cylindrical shape and sealed it by licking it from left to right twice. Harry swallowed hard as he watched him, Leonardo’s voice floating out into the distance. He then twisted one end of each joint and smiled, getting up off his knees and handing one to Harry who took it tentatively.

“Oh, um..,” he stammered before gazing down at the roll-up Louis just gave him, “is this...grass?”

“Yeah, is that a problem? You don’t have to smoke it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine,” Harry didn’t want to seem rude since Louis had made it especially for him.

The blue eyed boy beamed and put the joint between his lips, lighting his joint before doing the same for his date who copied him. They both took a drag and Louis paused the film as Harry blew out less smoke than he had inhaled and after a few more pulls, the younger boy’s heart beat faster, and his head buzzed.

Louis stared at Harry and cocked his head to the side (quite clearly stoned as they both had finished their joints. They shared each other’s even though they had one each) and smiled lazily. They looked at each other for what felt like hours and Harry began giggling. He doubled over and laughed uncontrollably before calming down a little, his whole body buzzing.

“You look like someone,” Louis confessed in his stoned state, moving closer to the younger boy who was looking at the paused image on the screen.

“Huh?”

“And I think he’s dead. But I don’t know, maybe he’s just gone,” Louis rushed out in one breath, shrugging as he did so. Harry had heard Louis' voice slowly and he looked at the clock, realising it had only been fifteen minutes and not longer. It felt longer.

“Let’s listen to some music,” the older boy stood and pressed play on his iPod and the room was suddenly filled with music.

It was so loud to Harry’s ears and it was heavenly, full of rhythm and texture and melody. It was guitars and drums and cymbals.

“What is this? It sounds fucking amazing!”

“It’s Jimi Hendrix,” Louis told him, grinning as he swayed a little on his feet and took Harry by the hand, pulling him close. “You are beautiful.”

“Kiss me, then,” the curly haired boy smiled lazily and pressed his forehead to Louis’, waiting for him to move.

Louis’ lips were warm and soft and slow, moving over Harry’s like they had all the time in the world and he tasted of grass and popcorn. It made him pull away and grin before leaning back in to kiss him, his lips moving lazily as Louis’ hands found his curls, pulling gently. The feeling made a noise escape the back of Harry’s throat and he bit the older boy’s lower lip gently, making Louis stop kissing him so he could stare at him.

“We should fuck,” Louis whispered in Harry’s ear, giggling a little.

“Lou, do you take me for some slut? This is only the first date,” the younger boy looked playfully offended but wrapped his arms around his neck. “Are you going to show me to your bedroom, then?”

“Mhm,” Louis pecked him on the lips and Harry followed him up the stairs into his room and all he really focused on was a large comfortable bed. He didn’t notice the dark curtains or the couch or all the song lyrics on his wall.

Harry pressed his lips against Louis’ who was now slipping a hand under his shirt, brushing his fingertips against the younger boy’s stomach and ribcage. He removed his jacket and threw it somewhere on the floor before Louis took his shirt off, trailing kisses down his neck and across his jaw. He didn’t say anything, just kissed him. Harry felt his head hit the pillow with the softest ‘thud’ and he smiled shyly up at Louis. Everything felt a lot more enhanced and Louis’ kisses felt the way bright red looked like – burning and blazing and brilliant. He dragged his lips down Harry’s chest, smiling against his skin, before straddling him and looking down at the boy underneath him.

“You feel good?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed out, his hands against Louis’ back (who’d taken his clothes off right down to his boxers somewhere between kissing Harry and getting him onto the bed) and both men smiled with blown pupils and swollen lips.

“Do you trust me?” Louis asked lowly, green meeting blue, blue meeting green.

Harry felt compelled to nod as everything felt so much larger than it really was. The older boy leant down to press a kiss onto Harry’s forehead before moving down to his lips once more, his fingers tracing imaginary patterns on the inside of his thigh which elicited a soft moan from him, the sensation making him needy and wanting Louis.

“Louis..,” he managed as the older boy moved around a little on top of him, smirking.

“What do you want, Harry?”

“I want you, Lou.”

*

Harry’s eyes fluttered open and he could just about hear the sound of rain hitting the window softly. He felt an arm tighten around him as he moved slightly, turning to his head to see a sleeping Louis. He felt incredibly hungry and he slightly dizzy as he tried to get up but Louis made a disapproving noise.

“No-o-o,” he dragged out, “stay.”

“I can’t,” Harry sighed, feeling regret pool in his stomach. He didn’t mind having sex with Louis; it was just not what he expected so soon. The older man tightened his hold around his waist again before letting him go.

Harry quickly pulled on his clothes before trying to sort out his hair in the mirror on the opposite side of the room. “I should go.”

Louis was standing up now, holding the sheets around his naked body, causing Harry to blush bright pink even if he had seen it all last night.

“You don’t want to stay?”

“No, I can’t. Thank you, though. Thanks for the high and for the fuck.”

“Harry, have I upset you?” Louis asked, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“No, I just really need to go,” the younger boy moved out of reach and muttered something about showing himself out.

He opened the front door and fumbled to get his keys out. He started the engine and didn’t look back at Louis’ house just in case he was watching him leave. He had some serious thinking to do.

But first, he had to eat something.


End file.
